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ACROSS THE WHEAT 



ACROSS THE WHEAT 



BY WILL DILLMAH 






BEVILLO, S. D. 

THE ITEM 

1898 

i 



A 



r 4 V> 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1898, by 

WILL DILLHAN, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



'IE3 



0EG241S98 



D ^UA'i 



TO VINA 



And Dora took the child, and went her way 

Across the wheat 

The reapers reap'd, 
And the sun fell, and all the land was dark. 

Tennyson. 



CONTENTS 



ISADORE 


9 


IN THE JIM VALLEY 


19 


"'WHEN YOND' SAME STAB" 


21 


OLD BILL WILLIAMS 


22 


WHEN JENNIE PASSED 


23 


YENNIE 


24 


BALLAD OF BAILEY'S RIG 


26 


THE FARMER OF THE PRAIRIES 


28 


SENCE NELLIE'S MOVED AWAY 


30 


AFTER THE CURTAIN DROPS 


.... 32 


WHEN WINTER'S COMIN' ON 


33 


RAIN IN HARVEST 


34 


BALLAD OF NELLIE HANKS 


36 


AUTUMN STORM 


38 


THE SHANTY ON THE CLAIM 


40 


BED TIME 


42 


FLORENCE 


43 


PA AN' ME 


51 


IN THE EVENING 


52 


HENRY 


54 


FOR HER 


56 


ON HER ABSENCE 


57 



CONTENTS viii 



THE WATCH KRS 


58 


KING LEAR 


59 


JOSEPH JEFFERSON 


60 


ST. ANTHONY FALLS IN APRIL 


61 


WALT WHITMAN 


62 


EDWIN BOOTH 


. ... bo 


THE MOODS 


61 


IAMBIC PENTAMETER 


65 


THE LEAVE-TAKINO 


66 


THE FAIR ISLANDS 


67 


THE VETERANS 


68 


THE WIRES 


70 


THE REAPERS 


72 


THEN DIE 


73 


DOWN TO GARY 


74 


ANALOGY 


76 


RETURNED 


^.i*. 


SONG 


79 


GETTING HOME 


80 


SUGGESTION 


83 


L' ENVOI 


84 



ISADORE 

In the middle of the wheat, where the south winds, slow or 
fleet, 

Bore a fragrance from the prairies of the roses, faint and 
sweet, 

There the nestlings piped and peeped where the gray-brown 
stones were heaped, 

Where the plowshare never troubled, where the reaper nev- 
er reaped. 

In the weird and stilly noon of the nights of waning June, 
When the fields were sleeping 'neath the yellow halo of the 

moon, 
Dreamfully the barefoot child strayed among the roses wild. 
Thro' the dewy hollows, pausing where the mossy stones were 

piled. 

O, the little wand'ring feet, wending thro' the bending wheat; 
O, the childhood gone forever; O, the years so cruel, fleet! 
Listen to the homely lore pitying midnight spirits bore; 
As the childish watcher heard it, hear the tale of Isa.iore. 

1. 

In the seasons past and gone dwelt two brothers, Frank and 

John, 
By the ever stretching prairie countless cattle roamed upon ; 
In a simple, strong abode, builded by the winding road, 
By the rippled rapid river where the turbid waters flowed. 

9 



10 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



Frank was weaker of the twain, for a grim disease amain 

Thro' the years had racked his body, leaving- still a cloudless 

brain. 
John was tall and brownly tanned, ruighly-arnied and strong 

of hand ; 
And his limbs were sturdy, treading fall by fall the furrowed 

land. 

Now the brothers spoke no more as they used in time before, 
When they wrought or when they rested, of the lovely Isa- 

dore. 
For in cither's heart, alone and deep hidden, there had grown 
For the girl a silent passion but to mutest lovers known. 

Busy seasons gliding fast, now were youth and boyhood past; 

And the brothers came to manhood's grave and sterner years 
at last. 

Now their parents, bent and gray and o'er-wrought. had pas- 
sed away; 

Alone they sowed ami reaped and watched the herd, as farm- 
ers may. 

All a brother's love they bore for each other; but a more 
Sacred passion grew within them lor the queenly Isadore. 
Each was hoping 1 thro' the years, hoping still 'neath doubts 

and tears. 
That lie might at some uay claim her, know her joys and share 

her tears. 

Now one late and autumn night the wild storm was at its 

height; 
Only in the old farm kitchen burned the wood-fire, warm and 

bright. 



IS ADORE 11 



There the brothers lingered still near the midnight hour; and 

shrill 
Raged the tempest ; and the farm-house shook and shuddered, 

roof and sill. 

Thus spoke John, and looked away to the window, "Frank, all 

day 
L have tried to tell this secret; listen, then, to what 1 say : 
When the winter days are o'er, and the flowers bloom once 

more, 
This old house will bloom with sunshine and the smiles of Is- 

atiore." 

As one standing 'neath the bud of the hawthorne hears the 

thud 
Oi the first clods on the coffin of the nearest of his blood, 
So upon the brother's ears fell the name that all the years 
lit had loved to whisper nightly 'neath the dim unnumbered 

spheres. 

Yet 1 e silent sat. and raised not his head, but like one dazed 
At the ^iowlj glowing embers with unchanging eyelids gazed. 
Then upon a sudden teij iiom his soul the binding spell; 
And l.e seii.ee. the honest brown hand, saying, "Brother, it is 
wefi." 

On a bright and joyous day in the mating time of May, 
When wines were hushed, and all the plain a waveless ocean 

lay, 
Under apple blossoms hoar John the sturdy farmer bore 
To his home the happy maiden, bore the queenly Isadore. 



12 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



Prank the brother stood beside the old door-way, on the wide 
Spreading 1 porch and, hands extended, welcomed home the 

groom and bride. 
No one seeing - him might know that beneath this smiling show 
Beat a heart all crushed and shattered by a single mighty 

blow. 

II. 

Thro' the villages and farms rose and rumbled War's alarms: 
And threat' ning drums and stirring trumpets called. "To 

arms! to arms!" 
Many a brave and noble band quit its forges, quit its land; 
Many a borne Avas h'i't unguarded by a strong and manly hand. 

At t lie cottage door t he three stood and parted— (Far and free 
On the morning air w:is borne the war-drum's dreadful re- 
veille!)— 
John the manly brave and true in bis uniform of blue, 
Isadore the young and tearful, Frank beside the silent two. 

While the birds of morning passed thro' the dewy boughs, ana 

fast 
Fell the girlish tears, the husband held her. kissed her for the 

last. 
So the soldier left her there with the sunlight on her hair. 
• Saying. "Frank, protect and guard her; Frank. I leave her in 

your care." 

Down the winding road he passed, while the heavy muskei 
cast 



ISADORE 13 



On his manly shoulder glistened, gleamed and glistened to the 

last. 
On the farthest hill he stood, looking backward while he 

could; 
Saw the cattle in the farm-yard ; saw the green and pleasant 

wood ; 

Saw the farm-house white and fair; saw the still and lonely 
pair, 

The patient yielding brother and the young wife standing 
there. 

Burning tears unheeded flowed down the soldier's cheeks; lie 
strode, 

Leaving ail tilings dear behind him, down the Jong and wind- 
ing road. 

So the soldier went; and still watched the lonely two, until 
The figure small and smaller grew, and vanished o'er the bill. 
Then the silent brother turned to his fields, for he discerned 
A profound and sacred sorrow on the face of her who yearned. 

And the lonely Isadora, fairer, queenlier than before, 
"He is gone," she stood repeating, "he is gone," and evermore, 
While the sunny day wore on, and she turned herself anon 
To her household cares, she murmured, ever murmured, "he 
is gone." 

III. 

O. the long and lonely years, time of mingled hopes and fears; 
O, the eyes grown dim with watching; O, the silent flowing 
tears ! 



14 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



All alone with thoughtful brow wrought the old man at the 

plow; 
All his boys had gone to battle; two had perished bravely now. 

And the mother at the gate wandered down to watch and wait. 
While the evening shadows lengthened, while the hour was 

growing late. 
And the young babe grown apace had forgot his lather's face. 
And marked no more the stillness and the ever vacant place. 

Ami the children 'round the door played in silence evermore. 
For a shadow like the shadow of. a dark cloud hovered o'er. 
Nightly down the yellow road where the summer moonlight 

Slowed, 
Peered the maiden: there he vanished, glancing backward as 

he strode. 

Now the blue-eyed Isadore stiller grew, and sang no more 
At her house-work, and her wistful eyes were sadder than be- 
fore. 
Ami the brother, strong above all the griefs he suffered of, 
Ever sought to cheer her. patient in his silent sinless love. 

Now the time of yellow shocks came again; and crying flocks 
Soared above, ami in the sunshine crew the faint and distant 

cocks. 
In the evening Frank returned with his horses, and discerned 
Thro' the door the young wife standing where the twilight 

embers burned. 

At the evening meal the two sat in silence. Faintly thro' 
Door and window came the lonely chirp of crickets in the dew. 



ISADORE 15 



Now the cheerful farmer Brown, home returning- from the 

town 
With the newest tidings, entered, stood in silence, looking 

down. 

While the stricken Isadore looked upon him, lo, a more 

Deathly pallor came ubon her, spread her cheeks and lore- 
head o'er. 

To the kindly man she fled wild and helpless. -'Speak!" she 
said, 

■Is he killed? Ah heaven, I know it! Tell me! Speak man! 
Is lie dead?" 

"Yes. my girl." And Isadore heard no word of tidings more. 
For the pitying farmer caught her falling swooning to the 

floor. 
Tenderly they laid her down on the couch; and farmer Brown 
Brought his kind old wife to tend her. and a doctor from the 

town. 

IV. 

Over sanded roads and gray John the soldier marched away 
With his comrades, passing cornfields, passing meadows sweel 

w ith hay; 
During all his weary tramps thinking still of her, in camps 
Of the South, in midnight watches, in the lonely dews and 

damps. 

So by one and one were gone dark and cruel years; and John 
With his comrades marched and fought: and yet the bloody 
War went on. 



16 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



In the battle's smoke and roar, on the marches, or when o'er 
Silent tents the moon hung - watching - , still he dreamt of Isa- 
dore. 

Now in autumn time was made yet a fiercer battle. Blade 

(.'lashed on bloody blade, and banners waved, and ranks were 
lowly laid. 

Long - the soldier fought and well where his comrades reeled 
and fell, 

Where the screeching- shells were hottest, in the battle's red- 
dest hell. 

In a charge loo rashly fought John and all his line were 

caught 
From their comrades, and as captives to the dreaded prison 

lirought. 
And the tearful message, read in his native village, said 
These were killed and these were wounded, naming John 

among: the dead. 

Many mom ; s lie languished there in the filthy prison, where 
Sickened comrades lay about him, squalor filling earth and 

air. 
Frightful months the soldier passed in the ghastly prison 

cast; 

But deliv'ranct- and the flag he loved and bled for came at 
last. 

Now the cruel course was run; now were furled and folded, 

one 
After one, the shell-torn banners; now the awful War was 

done. 



ISADORE 17 



Now the soldiers, sick and sore, thought to wander home once 

more, 
Thought again to see the farm-house with the loved ones at 

the door. 



V. 



In the summer night the sweet grass was crushed beneath 

the feet 
Of the homeward plodding soldier, as he passed the fragrant 

wheat. 
Now were all his labors o'er, thus he thought, and evermore 
Would he dwell in peace and quiet with the love of Isadore. 

So the weary man, elate with sweet visions, could not wait, 
But plodded, plodded onward till he reached the farm-house 

gate. 
Joyous tears, the least like those he had shed at parting, rose 
To the weary soldier's eyelids as he neared his journey's 

close. 

Thro' the somber summer night from the window gleamed a 

light. 
Coming near, he looked within, and moaned in sorrow at the 

sight. 
For he saw his Isadore lying still and pale, and o'er 
Snowy cheek and pillow streamed her hair as golden as of 

yore. 

Near the couch of spotless down sat wife of farmer Brown, 
With her kindly eyes and features and her quaint and ample 
gown. 



18 ACROSS THE WREAT 

As she stroked in mother's wise all the flowing- hair, the eyes 
Opened, gazing- far and wistful, as on cloudless summer skies. 

Kneeling trembling on the floor, now the soldier held once 

more 
In his arms the pale-cheeked woman, held the happy Isadore. 
All her sorrow vanished when once again he held her; then 
Was she silent, saying only, "John, I dreamt you came again." 

Frank the silent brother came thro' the doorway, with the 

same 
Patient face that hinted not a silent love's undying flame. 
While the soldier held her fast in his trembling arms, she 

passed 
From earth's longings, ever smiling, ever happy to the last. 

And the brothers by the bed gazed upon the sinless dead, 
One the loved and one the loving, and no single word they 

said. 
And the curling hair of gold lay about the forehead cold ; 
And the brief young life was compassed, as a story that is 

told. 

In the middle of the wheat, there they laid her, where the 
fleet 

South winds ever bear a fragrance of the roses, faint and 
sweet. 

There the nestlings pipe and peep, where the stones their vig- 
il keep, 

Where the plowshare never troubles, where the reapers never 
reap. 



IN THE JIM VALLEY 



19 



IN THE JIM VALLEY 

They're a-harvestin' the wheatfields in the Valley of the Jim ; 
I can hear the reapers clatter, soundin' kind of low an' dim; 
See the yello' fields a-wavin', an' the shocks in crooked rows: 
An' house an' Darn, an' mother out a-hengin' up the clo'es; 
See the cattle in the pastur'. an' the ol' gray linipin' mule; 
An' the yello' heifer standin' in the water keepin' cool. 
An' I try to fight again* it as a sort of silly whim, 
But 1 wisht 'at I was hack there in the Valley of the Jim. 

Now it's fall, an' they're a-thrashin' an' a-plowin' up 1 l>t 

ground ; 
An' the air is sort of hazy, an' the gulls are sailin' 'round. 
An' the sun looks kind of yello' in the smoky afternoon ; 
An' at ev'ning- you can listen to the steamer's sleepy tune- 
See the horses comin' home f'om work, an' smell their sweaty 

coats ; 
Hear 'urn smashin' through the stubble, tired an' hungry foi 

their oats. 
Now it's growin' sort of dusky, an' they're doin' up the chores. 
An' the kitchen fire is burnin', an' it's chilly out o' doors. 
1 can smell the eggs an' coffee, an' 1 know my little trim 
Lovin' mother's g-ettin' supper in the Valley of the Jim. 

Onc't I had a elder brother in the Valley of the Jim. 
An' he was a homely fello', an' I ust to go with him 
To the pastur' for the cattle, an' a-fishin', an' around : 
'N I mind lie ust to carry me acrost the stubble ground. 



20 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



An' we ust to sit a-fishin' of a summer afternoon 

By the crick, an' hear the gophers chirp, an' listen to the i uu< 

Of the bobolink an' blackbird.— O I recollect it well.— 

An' we liked the sleepy water, an' the sort o' lishy smell 

Of the ol' dry bank, with craw-iish bones an' clam-shells l;i \ - 

in' there; 
An' we'd hear the dreamy cryin' of the plover in the air.- 

An' then one day in fall they buried him on father's hill ; 

'N I cried all day, an' wished 'at I was laid along of Bill. 

For it seemed so queer an' lonesome 'thout no brother any 

more.— 
An' now the grass is dyin' there, an' winds are sighin' o'er. 
I can hear the sor'ful meado' lark a-singin' over him.— 
O I wisht 'at I was back there in the Valley of the Jim. 



'WHEN YOND' SAME STAB." 21 



"WHEN YOND' SAME STAR." 

"When yond' same star that's westward from the pole" 
Glowed in the dark-blue space thus over-bright. 
And the winds kept the silent sleep of night. 
By the still lake we rested from our stroll. 

I do mind your hair's abundantness 

When yonder star was westward from the pole. 

1 mind the faint and sweetest scent that stole 
From countless silken folding's of your dress. 

I wonder, does that white contented swan 
Still dip and frolic where the ripples roll. 
When yonder star is westward from the pole? 
I wonder, does that fountain murmur on? 

So often as 1 wonder with my soul. 

As now, where pulseless midnight hushes are. 

I think of you, I long for you afar, 

When yonder star is westward from the pole. 



32 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



OLD BILL WILLIAMS 

Where that old sod shanty is, 

Old Bill Williams, he lived there. 
He got froze to death; that's his 

Grave out by the plowing, whew 
All the sun-flow'rs are. He came 

To this country— I don' know— 
From Vermont— an' took that claim. 

Maybe twenty years ago. 

Well, one time the boy an' him 

Got caught out; an' I suppose 
He wrapped all his clo'es on Jim, 

An' laid down with him, an' froze. 
That's the way we found 'um, Bill 

Dead, an' Jim all right, an' so, 
Never missed 'im gretly, still 

Boys felt kind o' sorry though. 



WHEN JENNIE PASSED 



WHEN JENNIE PASSED 

There was a minute's silence in the crowd. 

Old Silas drew his feet up under him. 
Young Daily sighed and frowned and breathed h'ss loud 

Bill Hawkins leered upon her with a grim 
Bad smile, and turned and spat the other way. 

Great guilty heads were bent, and glances cast 
From corners of men's eyes, and hearts that day 

Had higher better thoughts, when Jennie passed. 

Young Williams stood with folded arms, erect. 

He did not mingle with the village men. 
He raised his hat; he saw her face, sun-flecked 

And fair; he caught a faint perfume; and when 
Her glance met his with modest sweet surprise. 

His heart stood still, fell, rose, beat high and fast. 
The corner sign-board danced before his eyes. 

And all was dizziness, when Jennie passed. 



24 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



YENN1E 

Ay ben setten har des efning en mae lettle lunesome place, 
Un da lunesome clock ben ticken on da shulf. 

Ay ben tenken bote von lettle soony headt nn preety face. 
Ay ben sadt unt lunesome too touate msesulf. 

E fry ting hae ben so qviet ulmos' ay ben 'fraid to mofe, 

Oonly ven ay vapen tear ofe mit mas slief. 
Un niEe doge ben looken at me, setten qviet baa da stole: 

Poor ool' Roover, hae ben lunesome too, ay b'liei. 

Poor ool' Roover, never you vont yump mit her un play some 
more ; 

Never run un meet her ven she com en sate; 
Never you vont leek her lettle handt ven she com troo da door, 

Fore dose lettle handts ben gone avay lunate. 

.Many jears ago her mooder ilm, ven ve ben 'cross da sea; 

Yennie ben da oonly shildrens voL ve haf. 
She ben looken lak her mooder ven she setten on ma? knee; 

Ay ben tin ken bote her mooder ven she laf. 

Ay ben valken troo da pesture var she j use to drave dacowse, 

Un dey lift dar headt op ven ay com alouge; 
Un dey looken longe tern at maa ven ay goen to da boose. 

Lak dey vonder var poor lettle Yennie gone. 

Un her hatun sholl ben hengen on da nail behande da door. 
Unt her lettle shoose. un dress so clean un vate.— 



YENNIE 



Never she vont need dose lettle shoose to put on any more, 
Fore dose lettle feet ben gone avay tonate. 

Lettle Yennie, lettle Yennie, vot tor do you dae so soon? 

Oil da nebber boyse un girlse dey lote you too. 
Et'ry tem you haf da deener ven ay comen home ba^ noon. 

Oo mae Yennie, ay skel baa so lunesome noo! 

Lettle Yennie, lettle Yennie, oolvis ben so sveet un goode; 

Oolvis doen op da vork, un sing - un laf. 
Noo ay got von lettle grafe doon baa da corner of da rude, 

Unt von lettle shoose un hat, dos oil ay hat'. 

Poor ool' Roover, never you vont yump mit her un play some 

more; 
Never run unt meet her ven she com en sate; 

Never you vont leek her lettle handt ven she com troo da 

door, 

Fore dose lettle handts ben gone ava> 7 tonate. 



36 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



BALLAD OF BAILEY'S RIG 

In the early light we set, while the frost was lying yet 
White and clean— we'd pulled from Hull's night before. 

And by sun-up or about we had half a setting out, 
And the old thing chewing wheat, howl and roar. 

Then the wind rose in the south, high and hotter. Woman's 
mouth 

Full of hair and bunnit strings as she run 
With a ca'f and wotter pail tacking up against the gale. 

And we worked and sweat and swore in the sun. 

Bailey standing on the top by the pile of sieves would mop 
Out his eyes and watch the cloud rolling near, 

Till a scorching headfire broke through the marsh with dame 
and smoke. — 
And he waved to Jerry Hicks, engineer. 

"Stop 'er! Run 'er 'round!" says 'e. "What a cussed fool I be 

Not to know the lake was dry, and the crick. 
Back 'er up! Pull out o' here! Or we'll lose three thousand 
clear! 

Make the plowing If you never strike a lick!" 

Engine backed in with a twist while the siz/ing spigots hissed. 

Black-red smoke a-boomiug on straight across. 
Jerry staited with a jerk. •"Pull 'er open! Make 'er work! 

Throw the gov'ner belt to hell!" yelled the boss. 



BALLAD OF BAILEY'S BIG 27 



How he made her jump and bound! How sue climbed across 
the ground! 

And the fireman stuffing- straw fit to kill. 
And the pitchers sitting- blind with the smoke and dirt behind. 

And we sailed across the field, down the hill. 

Boiler hot and popping- steam. Bailey letting loose a stream 

From the oil-can on the straw. Forty rods! 
Jerry steering past the rocks tried the fiery-hissing cocks. 

"Bill, her wotter's g-etting low, by the gods!" 

Tried the pump. It wouldn't go. Tried the hot injector. No. 

"Run 'er dry then !" Bailey yelled. "Make 'er dig-!" 
Olose behind the header blew red-hot cinders on the crew. 

And we made the plowing sate with the rig. 



28 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE FARMER OF THE PRAIRIES 

The farmer of the prairies trod with slow, 
Tired steps at evening, when his toil was done. 

To'rd his poor house. Far in the west a glow 
Was waning where had sunk the autumn sun. 

He sank upon the wooden steps, and drew 
His plow shoes from his swelled and heavy feet. 

He bared his massive brow. A warm wind blew. 
Bringing a restful fragrance, faint and sweei. 

The furrowed fields lay dark and silent. Now 
A dog barked on with tireless energy. 

Faint, far away, a neighbor's lonely cow 
Bawled, and a wagon rattled distantly. 

Long, long the farmer sat unmoving there. 
His whiskered cheek upon his hand, the kind 

Wind toying with his gray and moistened hair. 
His eyes unseeing, fixed. And now behind 

The shuddering, solemn corn the moon arose. 

Long, long he thought upon his wasted life, 
Its years of useless toil. He thought of those 

He loved, his absent boys, his buried wife. 



Late, late it grows. The last sad cricket's call 



THK FARM KR OV TH K I'RA I BIES &* 



Has ceased; and in the moon's pale silver glare 
The commonplace has seemed to vanish, all. 
I see a tragic figure sitting there. 



30 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



SENCE NELLIE'S MOVED AWAY 

Some afternoons I let the cattle feed down here, 

To'rds the old house where Nellie ust to live. It's kind of 

queer. 
They ain't no flow'rs ner curtains, and a glass is busted out. 
An' weeds is gTOwin' in the little path. It's been about 
Three weeks I guess, er mebbe four, sence Nellie's mo vet I 

away. 
Sometimes 1 let 'um feed down here, along- to'rds evening, say. 

O' course now 1 don't s'pose 'at Nellie 'd ever think of me. 
She's gone off there to Illinois er somewheres. Still now she 
Would often stop an' talk to me— An' now it's summer time. 
An' everthing is hot an' dry, an' Nellie's gone, an' I'm— 
1 s'pose I'm kind of foolish — yup — but 1 can't help 'ut say 
f'm lonesome like sence Nellie's moved away. 

[ recollect that afternoon she come an' told me. "Fred," 
She says, "we're go'n' away f'om here," an' stood an' hung 'er 

head. 
1 see the wind an' sunshine playin' with 'er hair, an' then 
My throat stuck an' I couldn't speak, an' she walked home 

again. 
I wisht I could of thought o' some few words er so to say. 
I've thought o' lots sence Nellie's moved away. 

Oh the days is long an' sultry fer a I'ello' now like me, 
'At ain't got notliin' much to <io but herdin' princip'ly. 



MENC'K N BTiLJE'S MOV KL> A W A V 31 



Right here's the place 1 held 'er baud that day a little while. 
I wonder now if she was mad? An' yet I seen 'er smile. 
I wisht she hadn't gone. I wisht she'd come again an' stay. 
I feel so sad sence Nellie's moved away. 



32 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



AFTER THE CURTAIN DROPS 

We gaze entranced upon the shifting stage. 
Where stride the players in the tragedy. 
And tremble at the Moor's majestic rage. 

And shudder at Iago's treachery, 
And weep for Desdemona's cruel death. 

But when at last the wondrous drama stops. 
We brush away the (ears w ith freer breath. 
And turn to action, when the curtain drops. 
After the many parts are played. 

After the music stops, 
A Iter the exits all are mu.de. 
Vfter the curtain drops. 

My friends will pause and sigh some little space, 
And here and there, perchance, a tear may fa.il. 
And many men will look upon my face, 

Serene and eold. and deem that, after all 
I'm better off. And they will make for me 

A grave somewhere among the clover top*. 
And one poor girl, perhaps, will come ami see. 
And weep and pity, when the curtain drops. 
After the striving ends at last, 

A Iter the struggle stops, 
After the heart, aches all are past. 
After the curtain drops. 



WHEN WINTER'S COMIN' ON 33 



WHEN WINTER'S COMIN' ON 



' 



Oh a felio' feels so cheerfulrlike some days, 

When the prairie grass is withered, and you dig potatoes, say : 

And the geese and ducks are leavin', and the sky is cold an' 

gray; ..... , 

And the fodder rasps an' rustles where it lays. 

Vou feel a sort of sorro' for the summer time that's gone: 
But there's a kind of happy feelin' though, 
When you know the fall is passin' and the winter's comin' on. 
And you hear the autumn winds a-sighin' so. 

Vou see your woman takin' in the clo'es, 

Er a-workin' 'round the shanty, and you feel a happy thrill 

When you think you might 'a' lost 'er and you've got 'er with 

you still. 
Oh a fello' feels so thankful days like those. 



34 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



RAIN IN HARVEST 

At two the white-hot sun was overcast 

With shreds of pale gray mist; 

And in the vast 

And reaching" west deep banks arose, 

Cool-blue and amethyst. 

With far, faint blows, 

Tap, tap, and lap, the farm mechanic hammered. 

The somber crows 

Flapped gloomily from hill to hill. 

By still, 

Unrippled ponds the scolding blackbird clamored. 

Still clanged the reapers o'er the ripened plain. 

Distant, and near, 

Low and sullen, or loud and clear. 

Then came the rain, 
Gentle and soft upon the brittle grain. 
Upon the long brown leaves, 
Upon the yellow shocks, 
Upon Lhe fallen sheaves; 
Lulling and fresh and cool. 
Stilling' the farmyard cocks. 



BAIN IN HARVEST 35 



Dark' ning the wayside pool. 

Che drivers hastened home with their teams; 

The reapers were left by the wheat. 

O welcome rain, how sweet, 

How restful and soothing it seems; 

O beautiful harvest rain, 

After the days of heat, 

After the toil and pain. 



; K) ACROSS THE WHEAT 



BALLAD OP NELLIE HANKS 

Daylight when I got to town. Roused the doctor out. 

Told him Nellie Hanks was worse; wanted he should go. 
Watched mv smokin' horses snort clouds of steam about. 

\ Iter seven miles of ice, seven miles of snow. 

Seen an engine with a. car sizzin', creakin past. 
An" a brakeman froze to death, wavin', signalin'. 

Got the doctor bundled up on the seat at last, 

Pulled (he lines up tight an' whang, off we went agin. 

Past the. stores an' opree house, past a church an' school. 
'Crost the river where the black steamin' wotter flowed. 
Sun most risin' in the east, mornin' sharp an' cool, 

Past the courthouse and the jail, struck the country road 

Horses wild to go ahead, so ) let 'urn scoot, 
Struck a swift and sliddy trot, tried to hold 'urn so. 

frost the bridges and the pikes, ruts an' holes to boot. 
Seven miles of icy road, seven miles of snow. 

Hut 1 knowed my jumper'd stood more 'un that- before. 

Horses slingin' cannon balls past, the doctor's ear. 
How we flopped an' banged about. How we ripped an' tore. 

How the doctor clung to me like a drowndihg steer. 



BALLAD OF NELLIE HANKS 37 



•Man," sez he, "for heaven's sake, all my teeth are jes' 
Droppin' out; and all my tools will be lost; and where 

Will my cussid bottles be?" "Can't help that," I sez, 
"Nellie Hanks is sick, an' I'll try and git you there." 

Down the hills an' 'crost the flats, on through Jones's Gap. 

Neighbors rushin' out the doors, wild to see us go. 
Lost a blankit and a quilt, doctor lost 'is cap. 

Seven miles of ice an' ruts, seven miles of snow. 

Up through Hanks's trees we rushed, plungin' 'crost the 
banks; 

'Round the haystack and the barn, knockin' down a cow. 
Landed at the kitchen door. "My," sez Mrs. Hanks, 

"Sorry that you've hurried so, Nellie's better now." 



W ACROSS THE WHEAT 



AUTUMN STORM 

Rain in evening. Rain in the early fall. 
The cold few drops set in with gathering dusk. 
Borne o'er the prairies on the chilling winds 
From the vast Rockies. Rain and closing night. 

O cold and driving drizzly autumn storm! 
It will o'ertake the hastening hier home. 
It will pursue the homeward drifting sheep. 
The shrinking herd shall flee with lowered heads. 
The withered grass of untrod endless plains 
Drenched bv this storm shall writhe beneath the clouds. 

O'er all the vast and gloomy plain tonight 
The cold bleak rain is driving. In his tent 
The sleeper feels the stray drops on his face. 
And sighs from comfort. 'Round the kitchen fire 
The sleepy children linger, while the wife 
Adjusts the clashing dishes. In the barn 
The lantern gleams upon the yellow straw 
Under the horses' feet, upon the pegs 
Laden with harness, on the farmer's bent 
And shadowed form, passing among his steeds. 

O happy ye who. blessed with home and friends. 



AUTUMN STOKM 39 



Abide this night against your cheerful tires. 
Ye hear the wild storm pelting at the panes. 
Ye see your children's faces in the fire light. 
Do ye remember us who homelessly 
Wander like broken Lear upon the heatliV 



40 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE SHANTY ON THE CLAIM 

I'm sick and tired of city life. I want to start today, 
And git back where Dakoty is, and throw these things away. 
And git my old blue overhauls and wommus on agin, 
An' stand aside the pastur' when the cows are comin' in. 

I want to kiss my mother w'en she meets me at the door. 
And see the happy tears a-starting in her eyes once more. 
I want to see if father's changed, er if he's jest the same. 
I want to eat my supper in the shanty on the claim. 

1 watcli the sun at evening as it kind of sadly drops 
In a bank of smoke that raises from a thousand chimbly tops. 
And 1 know the sun is setting clear an' beautiful out there, 
Where the meado' lark is singin' on the corner post, an' where 

My brothers are a-doing chores and whisteling, and pap's 
A -coming from the stable with his milkin' pail perhaps, 
And mebbe mother's standing in the door, and O I'm blame 
Lonesome when I think about 'urn and the shanty on the 
claim. 

I'm tired of all these city airs, and all this noise an' din. 
I want to see the prairie and the wavin' wheat agin; 



THE SHANTY ON THE CLAIM 41 



And lay down in the cornfield where the wottermelons be. 
And watch the sky, and hear the corn a-rasping over me. 

I want to go to Hieks's where the dancing is, an' reel 
The roarin' inspiration of the old Virginy reel. 
I want to waltz with Nellie once agin, and hear 'er say 
In a whisper that she likes me, while the screeching fiddles 
play. 

I want to go with mother where my little sister lays; 

Where the golden-rod is bloomin' through the smoky autumn 

days, 
And a kind of gentle sadness seems a-floating in the air. 
I want to help my mother tend the flowers we planted 

there 



42 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



BED TIME 

"Boys, come in and go to bed." 
That's what father always said, 
In the summer evenings— oh 
T guess that was years ago. 

When the twilight had about 
Faded, and the stars came out, 
And we sat and listened to 
Insect voices from the dew. 

Or a lonely frog, or low 
Twitter of a bird or so, 
Or a night hawk overhead: 
"Boys, come in and go to bed." 

Maybe we'll get back some day 
To the old farm. Anyway 
I'd enjoy it, wouldn't you? 
Sit there as we used to do, 

On the rough old porch ; and then 
Try to hear that voice again, 
Calling to us from the dead : 
•'Boys, come in and go to bed." 



FLORENCE 48 



FLORENCE 



I. 



It was springtime in Dakota; and the motionless, wide plain 
Smiled to welcome back the south winds and the sunny days 
again. 

Sounds of jocund toil resounded; and the farmers were afield 
With their teams and harrows, sowing for the summer's gold- 
en yield. 

Ali was filled with exultation at the glad return of spring. 
Every creature seemed rejoicing in a new awakening. 

Herds of aimless cattle wandered where a tinge of faintest 

green 
Appearing on the burned and blackened prairie could be seen. 

The timid gopher ventured from his winter domicile. 
The wild cock boomed at morning from behind the distant 
hill. 

All day the lark was singing his glad song of joy and love. 
The cranes would cry at noonday as they floated high above. 



U ACROSS THE WHEAT 



At sunset time the rapid ducks flocked by with whirring 

flight. 
Afar the geese would sail and soar, and vanish in the night. 

Silent evening, solemn evening: just the stars were in the sky, 
For the moon was late, and only faintest winds went sighing 
by. 

But the wakeful frogs were croaking in the marsh, now low, 

now higher; 
And upon the dim horizon burned a languid prairie fire. 

Home returning from the party, Walter Gray and Florence 

Lee— 
Pretty blue-eyed Florence, fairest one of all the girls was 

she- 
Home returning in the evening, walking arm in arm were 

they, 
Softly talking to each other, Florence Lee and Walter Gray. 

"Are you sorry? Tell me, Florence," said the manly Walter 

Gray. 
Then said Florence, "You'll forget me, Walter, when you go 

away." 

And her voice was sad— she loved him, foolish, timid Florence 

Lee— 
"You'll find a prettier sweetheart there, and never think of 

me." 



FLORENCE 45 

He stooped and kissed her flushing- cheek and warm and girl- 
ish brow. 
Silent evening, solemn evening; and the moon had risen now. 



II. 



It was summer in Dakota; and the fields of waving grain 
Stretched in endless undulation far across the yellow plain. 

Day by day the sun was shining; not a cloud was in the sky. 
The wind was still, and only spiders' webs went sailing by. 

The pool was green and stagnant where the cattle came to 

drink. 
The locust chirped and chattered in the hot grass bv the 

brink. 

The song birds all were silent; not a note was in the air. 
Only humming, dreamy insects broke the stillness every- 
where. 

All was wheat: the great sun shone on miles of wheat; the 

scented heat 
Smelt of wheat; the gopher chirped of wheat; the blackbird 

screamed of wheat. 



And now the grain was ripened, and the harvest was begun. 
A thousand men and horses toiled beneath the burning sun. 



16 ACROSS THE WHEAT 

A thousand reapers clattered thro' the yellow, brittle grain. 
All was hurry aud excitement o'er the busy, sounding- plain. 

Sunday came and brought no respite. Ail the golden sabbath 

day 
Toiled the worn-out men and horses, many dropping by the 

way. 

Years had passed, and pretty Florence was a fair young 

woman now . 
The farm hand's Life seemed brig-liter when she passed him at 

the plow. 

The young man's blood would tingle, and his heart would 

leap, perchance, 
To catch her glance or clasp her for a moment in the dance. 

But hers was such a iieart as loves but once, and cannot 

choose. 
If it win 'tis filled with gladness, or is shattered if it lose. 

When she closed her eves she saw him; in her dreams she 

heard his voice; 
And her heart would droop with sadness, or exult with name 

less joys. 

From her father's house came Florence with her empty water 

pail; 
Stopped beside the meadow pasture, stood and leaned upon 

rail. 



FLORENCE 47 

» 

It was sunset, radiant sunset; from the meadow came the 

sound 
Of the home-returning- cattle, treading- o'er the hollow ground. 

In the fields the reapers clattered high and lower, and anon 
Came the cries of weary drivers as they urged their horses on. 

But when the dew descended and faint stars appeared in 

sight, 
All grew still, and Florence knew the men were quitting for 

the night. 

Still she lingered in the twilight, hearing with a listless ear 
All this, but waited, listened, for a sound she longed to hear. 

Now he came, the handsome Walter, from the college just re- 
turned ; 

And she knew his step, and trembled, and her forehead flush- 
ed and burned. 

But he greeted her so freely, with such frankness in his air, 
And clasped her hand so warmly, that she knew no love was 
there. 

Then her tender heart was broken, and she sank beside him 

there.— 
It was summer in Dakota, and a stillness everywhere. 



48 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



III. 



It was autumn in Dakota; and the winds of autumn blew 
Fiercely now, and rustled wildly where the yellow sunflowers 
grew. 

All the air was dark and smoky; and the yellow straw would 

fly 
On the winds; and corn leaves rustled ; and a haze was in the 

sky. 

Day by day the silent gulls would hover o'er the gliding - plow, 
Where the farm hand toiled and whistled, with the dust upon 
his brow. 

Yet some days were calm and pleasaut, when the golden-rod 
would bloom, 

And the air was soft and laden with a nameless, faint per- 
fume. 

Then upon the sunny hillside in the grass the herd boy lay 
With his sleeping dog beside him; dreamed the autnmn hours 
away. 

He saw the small and fleecy clouds float through the far-off 

sky. 
He heard the gopher's whistle and the plover's dreamful cry. 

The cattle's tread was muffled, and his pony's champing- 
seemed 

Faint and distant; and he lay and watched the clouds, and 
yearned and dreamed. 



FLORENCE 49 



Florence Lee was ill with fever; and she grew not well, but lay 
Painlessly, and wasted slowly with the fever day by day. 

Her fair sweet face grew hectic, and her breath grew short 
and faint. 

tfhe lay and smiled, or tried to smile, and uttered no com- 
plaint. 

The doctor sat and held her hand and watched her hour by 

hour, 
And wondered at the strange disease that baffled all his 

power. 

Once he sat a long time silent; then he said, '"Come, Florence 

dear, 
Tell the old man all about it, for there's more than fever 

here." 

Then the young eyes tilied with tear-drops, like the old eyes, 

bent above ; 
And she told the simple story of her burning, useless love. 

And so, she said, she longed to die and leave this world of 

pain, 
For to die was better, better, than to live and love in vain. 

Long he gazed upon the pillow where the golden tresses lay ; 
Then rose and dropped a tear and kissed the cheek and went 
his way. 



50 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



Walter came one day in autumn when the sun was in the west, 
And held her thin white hand and looked upon her peaceful 
rest. 

Her mother and her brothers stood and watched, but knew 

not why 
That smile was on her face and that new luster in her eye. 

She told them she was happy now, and needed nothing- more. 
The gray birds chirped and flitted thro' the sun-flow'rs 'round 
the door. 

The pensive lark was singing' in the sunshine down beside 
The garden; and her gentle eyes were closed; and so she died. 

It was autumn in Dakota; and the winds of autumn crept 
Softly now. and paused to whisper o'er the grave of her who 
slept. 

And they came and told her story to a musing wanderer; 
And he took his pen and wrote it. Read it, friend, and pity 
her. 



PA AN' MB 51 



PA AN' ME 

Pa an' me, we had a fight 
I n a hay-cock other night. 
I seen pa an' John the hired 
Man a-restun cuz they's tired. 

An' 1 'es' sneaked up an' sat 
On his stomick. Oh an' 'at 
Made 'im grunt, an' right away 
We was fightun in the hay. 

'En 1 got to laffun so 
I can't fight a tall. An' oh 
Yes, a hay stuck into my 
Eye, an' 'en I had to cry. 

Pa an' me has lots of fun 
In the summer time. An' one 
Day mos' up to grampa's lake 
Once we seen a rattle snake. 



52 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



IN THE EVENING 

In the evening when the perfumed winds of summer wander- 
ed by, 
And the moon, a silver crescent, drifted down the western sky, 
In the fragrant dreamful twilight sat two lovers, she and I. 

On and on the fountain murmured with a musical, sweet 

sound. 
Dreamfully the cries of children lloated from the playing 

ground. 
We heard the flitting swallows in the twilight darting 'round. 

So we sat in blissful silence; and her cheek to mine was 

pressed ; 
And 1 felt her warm breath flowing on my lips; and felt her 

breast 
Rise and fall with gentle cadence, as it lay on mine at rest. 

Then began the old musician in the lonely tenement, 

With his flute; and ah, the pensive sighs of melancholy, blent 

With the syncopated breathings of the sobbing instrument. 

For we knew the gentle master, why the mournful melody; 
Knew his heart had once been buried far across the shining 
sea, 



IN THE EVENING 53 

With his fair young- wife, among- the sunny slopes of Germany. 

Then a sudden fear came o'er us, as the strain went floating 

by, 
A dread thought we dared not utter: What if some day she 

orl?- 
And we drew each other closer, daring- not to whisper why. 



54 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



HENRY 

Now an old man lookin' back, 

I remember best of all 
When 1's jest a little boy 

How I'd bear my mother call 
For me, standi n' in the door 

Of the old house, when I'd be 
I'layin' 'round the garden patch 

Er the corn crib— -, Hen-er-ee!" 

Then when I was bigger too 

I'd be snarin' gopbers, say, 
Down along the dusty road, 

On a sunny summer day; 
Huntin' hens' nests in the weeds, 

Er some other deviltry. 
Clear an' sweet I'd hear that voice 

Calliu' to me— "Hen-er-ee!" 

In them days I recollect, 

Herdiu' cattle 1'er away 
From the old home, on a bright 

Lonesome afternoon I'd lay 
Most asleep an' hear them sad 

Plovers cry in' over me; 



HENRY 55 



Dream I heerd that fer-off voice 
Callin' to me— "Hen-er-ee." 

Oh these feet has wundered t'er 

Sence them airly days is past. 
Mother's silunt many years 

Sence I heerd her call the last. 
Yet a-roamin* on I hear 

In the nights a heavenly 
Voice from sad an' fer-off stars 

Floatin' to me— "Hen-er-ee." 



56 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



FOR HER 

Amid the toilsome business of my life 

Ever I yearn for thee, for thee, my own ; 

Whene'er I walk where frozen tree trunks groan, 
With whirling snow and winter winds at strife; 
Or where the night with summer song is rife, 

And yon pale moon looks downward from her throne, 

Ever I yearn for thee, for thee alone, 
Ever for thee, my love, almost my wife. 
Dearest, to dwell with thee were to rejoice; 

To roam with thee 'neath sunny southern skies; 

To hold thee to my heart when day is done; 
To know no other music than thy voice; 

To wish no mirror but thy deep blue eyes; 

To feel no hand-clasp save thy velvet one. 



SONNETS 57 



ON HER ABSENCE 

This night I think is very like the last, 
Save haply something- colder, as I mind 
Her breath, scarce warmer than the laden wind, 

But cooled my brow and cheek. Again the vast 

And melancholy dome is overcast 

With multitudinous stars. Again behind 
The lonely spire I see the moon declined. 

Again the wheat is waving where we passed. 

A nd now she's gone, she's gone. While earth rejoices 
How shall I count the hours that creep so slow? 
How shall I tell the days that drag so long? 

Where shall I list for hers among the voices? 
"Her voice was ever soft, gentle and low." 
Where shall I seek her face among the throng? 



58 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE WATCHERS 

On some brown hill the patient herd boy lies, 

All through the dim and dull red autumn day, 
Seeing the few clouds floating far and gray, 

Seeing the mile-high plover soar and rise, 

Hearing the cattle graze in muffled wise. 
Now and anon bis yearning glances stray 
About the faint horizon far away, 

Where the wide prairie meets the bending skies. 

So, from their thousand homes of hopeless toil 
Are longing looks of dull-eyed women sent, 
Through weary days of work and nights of pain. 

So, grim and wind-blown tillers of the soil 

Gaze, and still gaze, yet find no solacement, 
O'er their life's drear and limitless wide plain. 



SONNETS 59 



KING LEAR 

Reading this book, as quickened fancy can 
I see 'tis midnight on a trackless, cold, 
And storm-swept heath. I see vast manifold 

O'ertowering clouds the thund'rous heavens span. 

By these red rapid flashes let me scan 

This shocked and shattered monarch, feeble, old, 
And tottering 'neath the landless night— behold : 

"A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man." 

When I am sick with rhymes of small account, 
Dull pithless verses, poems but in name, 
With what deep inward yearning do I pine 

For thy rich leaves, O master paramount. 

Were all books else consigned to blasting flame 
The world were rich, methinks, possessing thine. 



60 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



JOSEPH JEFFERSON 

Is this an actor? and is that a stage? 

Tell us not so; we will not think it. Here 
Behold the genial Rip himself appear. 

Behold an aimless vagabond engage 

The sympathy of thousands. Let the sage 

Prate on; we'll rather love this quaint and queer 
Soft-hearted man, and drop our warmest tear 

When he comes tottering home, infirm with age. 

O gentle master of the mimic art, 

Thine is a people's love and gratefulness. 
Blest be thy days among us, long thy stay. 

How fond a duty thine, to sway the heart! 
What shall we do when they are echoless, 
The halls where thy sweet voice is heard to-day? 



SONNETS 61 



ST. ANTHONY FALLS IN APRIL 

Here at the falls I stand, while onward steal 

The last deep shades of evening-. Speak no more 
Of the shut world. I only hear the pour 
Of these stupendous waters, only feel 
The pluuging of these ponderous seas that reel 
And tumble headlong, jarring all the shore. 
Faint gleam the dim far city lights, while o'er 
The gloomy bridge coach-freighted engines wheel. 
Through weird and beckoning mists that rise I trace 
The round and sinking moon. Upon my face 

Is dashed the cool spray, scented with the gore 
Of upheaved rooted marshes. Ah the grace, 
The wild tumultuous glory of this place. 
The multitudinous thunder of this roar. 



62 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



WALT WHITMAN 

Thou poet of the manly brawn and tan 

Of soldiership. Thou lover of young men. 
Thou wielder of the plane as of the pen. 

Thou wanderer o'er thy country's plains, where ran 

Her mighty streams. Thou good American. 
And now I read thy powerful Leaves again, 
Each with "its long, long history," and then 

Proclaim to heaven, Here wrought an honest man. 

Thou wert the champion of the sore oppressed ; 
Of "those who've failed in aspiration vast." 
For poor and fallen ones thy bosom yearned. 

Now after life's long toil art thou at rest. 

Joyful thou seek'st thy brighter home at last, 
"As soldier from an ended war return'd." 



SONNETS 63 



EDWIN BOOTH 
WRITTEN IN WINTER'S "LIFE AND ART OF EDWIN BOOTH' r 

When I have read of those who living- took 

Applause indeed from earth's admiring host 
I have observed the common lot of most. 

And is't the same with thee? Hast thou forsook 

Betimes all earthly glories? Do I look 

Vainly upon this picture? Speaks no ghost? 
Are thy vast honors, like an idle boast, 

Shrunk to the compass of this little book? 

O loved and gentle player, let this heart, 

This trembling lip, these tear-dimmed eyes evince 
Thou art not gone indeed, but lingerest; 

Or, wearied with the labors of thine art, 

Sleepest like some tired youth. "Good night, sweet prince; 
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." 



64 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE MOODS 

I conned a poet's book from page to page, 

And marked the many moods in which he sung. 
And some were early songs, and bold, and rung 
Of love and wine, and passion, and the rage 
Of his wild violent heart. And some the sage 

Man-grown had writ; and here it seemed the tongue 
Of mighty genius free and curbless flung 
Its priceless thoughts to men. But in old age, 
In life's calm autumn free from pang or pain, 

then his songs were sweetest to the ear. 
He sang of sunsets in the golden west; 

Of yellow harvest moons, and gathered grain; 
Of heaven, and the hour we tarry here. 

1 loved the tranquil songs of age the best. 



SONNBTS 65 



IAMBIC PENTAMETER 

Majestic cadence, plunging on and on 

Like the vast storm-heaved ocean, what sublime^ 

What mighty utterances have thou and Time 
Given to us! Since the poet's art begun 
No measure hath had greater singers. One 

Of Florence journeyed hell ward, and did climb 

To heaven's wide portals with thee. In thy prime 
The mighty Shakespeare wrought with thee. Anon 
The plowboy chants the Cotter's deathless song. 

A master weaves the tale of sweet Elaine. 

Beside the church, 'neath crimson evening skies, 
The Elegy is writ. And all along 

The path of years they come, an endless train. 

Wondrous recorder, to have wrought this wise. 



66 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE LEAVE-TAKING 

As one on some late evening bids a slow 

And fond good-by with blessings manifold; 
Secures his cloak against the winter cold ; 

Sees for the last the cheerful embers glow; 

Kisses the cheeks he nevermore shall know; 
Presses the hands he nevermore shall hold ;— 
So I to-night take leave of all the old 

Fond hopes, and forth a winter pilgrim go. 

Farewell sweet visions, now a long farewell. 
The winds are raw, yet will I onward fare. 
The heavens are dark, yet will I brave the night. 

Full many a snow-blown milepost I must tell. 
Then let them say, if I shall perish there, 
He that was poor yet strove as best he might. 



SONNETS 67 



THE FAIR ISLANDS 

I think there be fair islands in the seas. 

'Round their bright shores the emerald ocean flows ; 
And blushing lovers walk and woo in those. 

I think there be unstoried Strophades; 

And from their sunny sands no sailor flees, 
For there no harpies are ; and there the rose 
Grows redder, and the lily whiter blows. 

And often have I yearned to dwell in these. 

But were I there I think in little time, 

As I should wander by the silver strand, 
My heart would languish with a deeper pain, 

A fiercer longing for that far-off clime, 

Where the strong cattle roam the prairie land, 
And waves the wheat o'er all the golden plain. 



68 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE VETERANS 

I saw the war was finished ; and the flags, 
Soiled with the blood of heroes, torn with shells, 
Black with the smoke of conflicts, all were furled. 
I saw the camps forsook and silent, all, 
Save when the feathered dwellers of the wood 
Spilled sweet melodious music, and by night 
The lean wolf prowled beside the silent stream. 
The fields where battles raged were echoless. 
Old cannon rusted by forgotten roads. 

I saw departing hosts. I saw strong men 
Weep, taking final leave of faithful comrades. 
I saw each soldier sad, yet overjoyed : 
All the old hardships, marches, buttles done, 
And home, and waiting wife, and peace ahead. 

And had the weary soldiers peace at last? 
I saw there was for them no peace in store. 
Their fields were wasted by neglectful hands. 
Their shops and mills corrosive Time had touched ; 
And o'er the silent forge and water wheel 
The ivy and the lizard crept alike. 



THE VETERANS 69 



I saw the soldiers had but scanty thanks. 

The dead were honored with cheap words of praise, 

The living cheated of their sustenance. 

I saw them turn again unto their toil 
With that sweet patience only heroes know, 
Take up their lifelong- fight with greed and wrong. 

O soldiers of the Union, not for you, 

While ye do live to strive, will there be peace. 

But for your comrades, sleeping without pain, 

Sleeping on many a Southern battle land, 

Sleeping where jasmine blossoms, and where rose, 

Sleeping after their noble fight is fought, 

Ah for your weary comrades there is peace. 

A little while, and ye will follow them. 
A little while, and we shall look in vain 
For your worn faces 'mong the throngs ofmen. 
A little while, and ye will be at peace. 

O soldiers of the Union, lingering yet, 
Walking a few more days with us who stay, 
As one departing unto foreign lands 
Walks yet a few more times among his fields, 
Teach us the lesson of your loyalty, 
That at the end, when ye are vanished quite, 
When the last soldier's funeral bell is tolled, 
The state may not want heroes utterly. 



70 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE WIRES 

O the wires! I've heerd the whizzin' of 'um buzzin' in my 

ears, 
Drivin' cattle past the railroad in them dim and airly years; 
When the sun was bright in summer, and the gophers chirped, 

an' birds, 
The wires has promised things to me in queer and stirring 

words. 

O the wires! And take it evenings in the black and chilly 

spring; 
The wind southwest acrost the hills, I've heerd 'um hum and 

sing, 
Comin' home with pap from Hanks's, stumpin' 'long the ties 

with him, 
Neighbors' lights off 'crost the prairie, and our own light fer 

an' dim. 

In the war time too I mind the nights that follered, long and 

still, 
Me the youngest left with mother, dad an' Ike an' Uncle Bill 
Gone together off with Sherman, how the wires would cry and 

moan, 
Bringing news of death to wives and mothers, weeping and 

alone. 



THE WIRES 71 



O the wires! And now I wunder most an old man in the fall; 
Winter winds and winter snowflakes, darkness comin' over 

all. 
In the nights I wunder yit a-past the homes and cheerful fires 
To the tracks, and stand and listen to the wild and wailing 

wires. 

O the airly days that's vanished, that's "departed," as they 

say; 
Father dead down south and mother north, and brothers past 

away. 
Only me that's left, past forty, roamin' on an' harkin' still, 
Tell I git the welcome message, an' go out acrost the hill. 



72 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



THE REAPERS 

Far toward the halt-set sun I saw the reapers, 

Near the wild ending of the wind-blown day, 

Each driver with his four-in-hand, the horses 

Hastening over the bloody-stubbled hills, 

At one side and behind the warlike dust cloud 

Following each: they were the charioteers, 

Guiding over the shuddering fields of slaughter 

Scythe-bearing chariots of the Persian king. 

And now some turned the curve with high-raised whips 

Like swords, and wide-mouthed prancing steeds: they were 

The wild cloud-fighting warriors of the skies 

The Romans saw o' nights i' the Punic War. 

And still they passed in the red evening wind, 

Far down the west in silver-shining dust, 

Their reels flashing like burnished oars: they were 

The Argonautic seekers of the fleece, 

The fifty Greeks, sailing the sunset seas. 



THEN DIE 



73 



THEN DIE 

First I shall roam the prairies high, 
The woods and rivers of my land, 
And walk beside the far sea sand, 

Where wheel the gulls, and then I'll die. 

I must hear the evening cry 

Of loon upon the northern lake. 

I must feel the ripples break 
By southern bays, and then I'll die. 

1 will not chide thee, Death. I'll yield, 
When it is time, all willingly. 

I'll join the shifting dust. I'll be 
Companion to the clodded field. 

My time is all too brief to see 
And know the half that stays and charms. 

1 have been taken up in arms 
To view the passing pageantry. 

I'll love.awhile the wild blue sky, 
The mellow warming sun, the far 
And midnight moon, and each pale star 

That swims the deep, and then I'll die. 



ACROSS THE WHEAT 



DOANE ROBINSON 

Down to Gary they's a man 
Men don't mostly understan', 
Jest becuz he's made of this 
Here same stuff 'at Shakespeare is, 
An' Jim Riley, an' the res' 
Of them gifted men, I guess. 

Queerest thing about this here 
Robinson, he don't appear 
Stilted up ner proud to me, 
Like a poit ought to be. 
Swappin' yarns an' walkin' 'roun' 
Hilly streets of that ol' town 
With a hay-seed freckle-face 
Like I be. Yet that's the case. 

Some his poums seems to me 
Jest as pure an' silvery 
As the Lac Qui Parle that flows 
Past the poit's house, an' those 
Others makes me walk again 
Dim red days in buskin', when 
Mother lived, an' Ed an' Joe, 
An' we wasn't scattered so. 



DOANE ROBINSON 75 



An' I sez to him, as I 

Shook hands with 'im fer good-by 

After sundown, "Robinson 

If I never see a one 

Of the great men, dead er live, 

Yet I'll always feel that I've 

Held communion with one true 

'Bard of nature', an' that's you." 



76 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



ANALOGY 

As I have trod the broad fields of harvest, 
Where, far and near, clattered the sullen reapers, 
And ever the hurrying shockers toiled, 
And have observed the meek bewildered rabbit, 
Scared from his covert, wandering through the maze of yel- 
low shocks, 
Then tearfully have I thought 
How in the wide world, estranged, misguided, 
Wanders one I loved. 



RETURNED 77 



RETURNED 

Dearest, I had thought to bring 
Honor to you when I came; 

Not the loud and brazen ring-, 
Not the sound of stilted fame; 
But a known and honored name 

From the notes that I should sing. 

To'rds an end that never nears 
1 have trodden toilsome ways; 

And at eve the rising tears, 

And at morn the longing gaze; 
And the hours have turned to day s. 

And the days are come to years. 

After bootless journeying, 

I am come your hand to claim. 

Nothing but myself I bring. 

I have sought an honored name; 
I have sung for modest fame; 

But they would not hear me sing. 

Yet I know in your dear eyes, 

Though I come with bayless brow. 



7M ACROSS THE WHEAT 



] s am welcome. Then arise; 

Let it go, I care not how. 

Poor hearts, dearest, long ere now 
Loved and quickened in this wise. 

Under far and bending skies 
We will journey on the same, 

Where the wood birds sing and rise, 
Where the roses bud and flame. 
Let them keep their wealth and f ame: 

They .may never know this prize. 



SONG 79 



SONG 

In the fall, in the fall, in the foul weather, 

Black comes the night with wind and with rain. 

Dim grow the black clouds, dim grow the bare trees; 
Bright glows the home light through the wet pane. 

Where are the wanderers in the foul weather? 

Where are the drovers on the wild plain? 
Where are the sailors, sailing the bleak seas?. 

Where are the soldiers in the cold rain? 

In the night, in the night, in the foul weather, 
Cold dash the driven drops on the black pane. 

Bright gleams the lamplight; warm glows the fire light. 
Where are God's creatures in the wild rain? 



80 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



GETTING HOME 



A-sitting in this railroad car, 

That springs and sways and rips along-, 
1 think of things which I have done; 

And some was right, and some was wrong. 
For years, in these United States, 

I've worked amongst my feller men. 
From Montreal to Mexico, 

And now I'm getting home again. 

Oil many is the fields I've trod. 

The harvest fields of prairie states. 
I've hugged a many farmers' girls 

By backdoor steps and pasture gates. 
I've hoed tobacco in the south. 

['ve been in Kansas, baling hay. 
I've lumbered in the woods of Maine. 

I've oyster-fished in Ches'peake Bay. 

I've worked in Texas, making ties. 

I've mined for coal in Tennessee. 
And every wheres that I have went 

I've met with men the same as me: 



GETTING HOME SI 



Unlucky chaps that's had no chance, 
And so the devil's got us tight; 

And yet we know what struggles is; 
We've had our tri'ls at doing right. 

I know it's bad to drink and play, 

And take young girls and fool 'urn so. 

I've felt their hot and clinging lips; 

They'll hold and never let you go. 
But us that's had our youthful hopes. 

And all them hopes is given up, 
Gits careless, as the feller says, 

An' drownds our sorro' in the cup. 

You take a man that ain't no show, 

That's had no schooling, and is poor. 
That's got to grind at common work, 

He's bound to go to thunder sure. 
The railroads and the towns is built; 

The live stock trade is wilted flat; 
The lumber camps is on the hog: 

What's left to make a living at? 

Yet I'll git over this blue spell, 

And be a-joking first I know. 
Oh some they is that's rich and great, 

But most of us has stayed below. 
Oh I have worked at many jobs; 

Oh I have chummed with many men. 
But I have lost 'um, here and there; 

And now I'm getting home again. 



82 ACROSS THE WHEAT 



And now I'm getting home to stay, 

Most middle aged, with not a cent. 
My mother's old, my father's dead. 

The chums I had they all have went. 
The friends that lived, which I have known. 

Where is them scattered friends to-day V 
The lonesome thoughts that rise in me 

I cannot tell, I cannot say. 



SUGGESTION 83 



SUGGESTION 



Ain't you now on some cold bad winter day 
Been readin' in an almanac, er say 
Some old book, run acrost a little thing 1 
'T'uld flash yer thoughts away to bloomin' spring? 
Fer instance, "Summer days will come again" 
Will make a person dream o' roses. Then 
"In spring a young man's fancy lightly turns 
To thoughts of love." Oh how a fello' yearns 
Fer warm March winds an' disappearin' snow. 
An' smiles of some dear girl he ust to know. 



84 ACROSS THE Wli BAT 



L' ENVOI 

1 have trod 

A lonely herder o'er my native prairies. 
On the tempestuous smoky days of autumn. 
When a child: 

And as a yearning student, 
In dewy silences of summer midnights. 
Hearing faint echoes from the antique poets 
Across the wheat. 

L have marked the seasons. 
The coming and departing birds of passage. 
The summer moon, the waning sun of autumn. 
And the fierce storms. 

What I have observed 

In nature's round, and each pathetic message 

Of the hoarse whispering south wind, I have written 

In my book. 

For it has told me 

Stories of tender hearts, silent and broken. 



L' ENVOI 85 



Of ever dropping- tears, and in the south land 
The dead soldier. 

And as the lover, 

Wandering- in the scented wood of Arden, 
Hung his amorous poems on the branches 
For one he loved. 

So do I leave 

My message unto them I love and honor, 

The strong young men of now and of the seasons 

Yet to be. 

For they will come; 

And they will walk these ways, and feel, as I feel. 
Life's joy and rapture, and withal its sorrows 
Acute and bitter. 

Across the wheat! 

O harvest toilers, soon the twilight deepens. 

The Master waits, and the home lights are gleaming. 

Across the wheat. 



H251 78 525 



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